Spill my Brother's Blood
by Katjae
Summary: After fifteen years, Landon Battle-Shire has no idea that his three sisters still live. After the fateful ambush, he witness his parents' death and his sisters' capture. Although destiny has plans with him, fate has something else in mind.
1. A Moon of Fire

A Moon of Fire

Quiana woke in that dark, dreary place of the bandit's prison. No, they weren't bandits . . . What did they call themselves? The Foresworn?

It didn't matter. She was bound to a torturer's table, covered in her own dried black blood and wastes, and still felt the wounds dripping out fluids. . . They were kind enough to heal her so she wouldn't die from blood loss, at least.

She endured this for about a week now. How much could a young seven year old girl take? She cried in pain during the first few tortures, but her parents never showed to rescue her.

The one who called himself the 'Briarheart' came in to the prison. He wore animal skin clothing and wore an elk's mask over his face.

"We will take back what is ours and Markath will surrender. It will belong to the Foresworn, daughter of Markarth, and your people won't be able to stop us."

"No . . . Solitude. I'm — I'm from Solitude . . ." The girl's mother was a Nordic Priestess of Solitude, who spent the war healing wounded Imperial Soldiers fifteen years ago. There, she met her husband — an Imperial Soldier, wounded in the heat of battle.

Their meeting blossomed and they moved to Solitude after the White-Gold Concordat to stay close with the Empire's advancements . . .

Last week, the family went to take a trip down to Markath to meet with Quiana's grandparents, but were struck by these Foresworn.

Her father tried to fight back, but numbers overwhelmed. Her mother and father were dead — her sisters, Querida and Audalyn were taken elsewhere and she thought her brother, Landon, might be dead as well.

"One by one, all Nords will die by the Foresworn," The Briarheart announced, then he looked at the girl, "But what to do with you? I could kill you, but what would the fun be in that? I guess there isn't much a brat like you would even know, anyways." The Briarheart left, keeping the door open. She overheard the conversation outside.

"What should we do with her?"

"Sell her. We are hurting for extra gold so one of us can sneak into town and buy some supplies."

"Why not just raid the closest farm?"

"That would require better weapons, and our swords and axes are rusted. We could carve out animal bone weapons, but I suggest we prepare ourselves first."

"We have no use for gold. We hunt our prey with our own weapons, we clothe ourselves by our own hunts, and we take care of ourselves by our own means."

"Understood. However, maybe we can trade her for hide and animal bones?"

"That's not a bad plan."

"Either way, she is a very good bargaining chip. Who wouldn't want a child slave these days? Break them in young, and they never nip back."

"Hm, yes. We have no use for her otherwise. Go coordinate something with other tribes or bandits around the area and see who the highest bidder is . . ."

"Hmm Hmm, what about the others?"

"The same . . . though the boy . . . he could be used as a hunter."

"Sir? He's a Nord. No one would even consider the whelp our own."

"Aye, but he might be a higher price. Come back to me once you've come up with the profits."

"Sir," she heard footsteps, then the door shut. The other steps came closer to her and she was met by the Briar.

"You won't be any use to us in that condition," He said, healing her, "Good now, be a good girl and stay quiet. Wouldn't want to hurt you after I've gone to the trouble of healing you."

"My sisters?"

"What?"

"They're still alive?" She said, smiling. He frowned, displeased that she overheard what they discussed, "Eavesdropping, now that is a punishable sin."

"Landon . . ." She whispered softly before passing out.

Quiana felt the chains come off her wrists. She opened her eyes to find the Briar over hear unlocking the binds from the table. He snatched her wrists, pulled her up, and dragged her into the next room. Outside the prison was a small confined stone room with one table by the fireplace.

The next door took them in the living quarters. Several beds and wardrobes lined the walls of the darkly lit room. Finally, the last door took her outside.

"Bathe. Now. You smell vile." He took her down the steps and pushed her near the lake.

"The women have eyes on you . . . when you are done, see them for new rags. Don't try to run, or you will get an arrow through your back." He left, and the matron of the tribe approached.

"Hurry it up, we haven't got all day," She hissed, "Take those things off and get into the lake or I will stab you where you stand."

"I can't swim."

"Stay near the edge or you drown. Get in." She did as told, taking off her torn and bloodied clothes. She felt odd, being naked in front of this stranger. She hurried to the water and put her feet in, then slowly waded to her chest height.

It felt good to wash off all of her body's wastes. She scrubbed her skin clean, then dove her head in to clean her greasy, silver blue hair.

Her mother's side of the family all had this unnatural affect to their hair and skin. They were albino — pale skin, silver hair, and light blue eyes. She and her twin sister, Querida, both had this affect, whereas the older set of twins, Landon and Audalyn, carried her father's characteristics : tan skin, dark emerald eyes, and ebony hair.

Her mother's family name was Moonsfire, and her father's family name was Battle-Shire.

After the water washed away all of the dirt, grime, and blood, she stepped from the lake, her skin shining ablaze. She looked like a child angel, walking from a long sleep as the water dripped from her hair.

"Here," the matron said handing the rags to her. Quiana put them on, and followed her back up the steps as the Briar came back down.

"This man here," He said, pointing to a Foresworn Bandit, "He is your new master. I hope you do not displease him . . . anyway, take the girl and give me the promised payment."

"Sure," He said, handing over animal carcasses, hides, and weapons. The bandit eyed Quiana, trying to figure out the most valuable aspect of her would be.

"Do you want any of the others?" The Briar asked.

"No. She will do. Come on girl, we don't have all day to stand around here."

"Where are we going?" He smacked her.

"Do not speak out of line. The only words I want to hear from you are 'yes sir'. Got it, bitch?" She held her face, then looked up to the bandit.

"Yes, sir . . ." She spoke faintly.

"Good, Come," He growled and walked, expecting her to follow. _Don't try to run, or you'll get an arrow in your back._

Her parents were gone, her siblings were left behind . . . She was all alone in this new world, with only the Foresworn Bandits to protect her.

_There's a comfortable thought._


	2. Life of An Orc

The Life of An Orc

This week had been a nightmare. Landon tried to fight back, grabbing the knife his father kept at his horse's saddle pouch, but it didn't matter. His nine year old body wasn't any match for the strength of the barbaric tribe that ambushed his family.

The Foresworn murdered his mother first, then as his father struck back, an arrow hit his shoulder, and another member cut him down.

He held the knife toward them, trying to protect his three younger sisters, but to no avail. The man laughed sinisterly, then knocked the knife out of his hands.

Another came at him, sword still drawn, and forced him out of the way. He saw them take his sisters elsewhere as the leader of the group beat him down into submission.

Someone carried him and took him to their keep at some abandoned fortress east of Markarth.

After being tortured for about a week, the Briar turned around and sold him to a Orc hold.

They, like the Foresworn, enjoyed beating him senseless. They were breaking him, and he knew it, so he struggled. Didn't want to make it easy for them.

The Orc leader sat in a chair as one of his brothers unbound Landon.

"Fight me, puny human," He mocked. Landon just glared at him. _Gladly_. He thought. He searched the room, noting the axes laying on the tables and hanging on the walls. He dashed toward the closest mace on the table.

Unable to lift it, he swore bitterly. The orc rushed him, brawling him back on the floor.

"Aren't Nords supposed to be strong? All I see is a milk drinker's son . . . I guess pansy runs in the family, eh kid?" Landon pushed himself back onto his feet and took a swing at his large opponent, who simply grabbed his fist and threw him into the wall.

"Long way to go, whelp."

"Let the kid rest."

"Why? He isn't going to get stronger by crying all over the floor."

"Nor is he by being beaten to death before he has the body of a man. Let him rest."

"Aye, fine Morsnaga. But we will make a man of this one, or we wasted our investments. Why not just let an Orc to his own?"

"I feel like we could use the extra hands, and besides, leaving him to the mercy of those Foresworn would have been a far worse fate, wouldn't you agree, Dregskab?"

"Pleh," He growled, "I'm going to train with some real warriors. But beware : Just because you raise something like an Orc, doesn't mean he's going to be as strong as one."

"You let me worry about that, Dregskab . . ." The elder Orc Morsnaga responded. After the Orc left, Morsnaga said, "Well child, are you just going to lay there all day, or are you going to come help me smith?" Landon pushed himself up, still glaring at the old man.

"Why would I help you at all?"

"Because you want to eat tonight. Come now, it's not that bad, is it?"

"You _bought_ me from those bandits! You're pretending that I'm some sort of slave — but guess what? I am not your slave, nor am I anyone's!"

"Why, what a temper."

"They killed my parents. Gods know what happened to my sisters. You think I want to be here?" The Orc Morsnaga stood up from the chair and went over to Landon, "Do you know what happened in the region that's now the town of Markarth? The Foresworn used to live there before Nords overtook their lands. They fled into the wilderness, plotting to take back their land."

"And? That excuses my mother and father's deaths? Bullshit." The Orc whistled.

"Watch your tongue, Little Nord. You said you had sisters?"

"Yes."

"There were no other captives when I got there . . ." Landon's blood turned icy.

"They weren't . . .? That means . . ."

"They were either killed or sold, like you." Landon backed up into the wall.

". . . Look, I'm sorry Little Nord, but you aren't likely to see them again. Here, I'll give you a free night, but I cannot allow you to be a freeloader, y'hear?"

"I need to look for them."

"I'm sorry?"

"I can't just leave them out there . . ." The Orc shook his head, not to refuse him, but rather thinking about the young girls. If they were sold to bandits, who knows what kind of torture they were going through. He knew all to well how being thrust into a murderer's world was — killing innocents and raiding towns.

Morsnaga got away from all of that years ago, and now held together a fort of honorable Orcs — Landon didn't see that yet, but he would. Dregskab was used to this kind of training to their own young — teaching them how to think quick when the enemy has all the advantages.

Except, Landon was barely able to hold a sword . . . He would definitely need to train, but all in due time. He was still a pup and Morsnaga could see that — Dregskab only saw another mouth to feed.

"I'm sorry," he said again, "I wouldn't throw this onto anyone if it could be avoided. Your sisters are gone. There's nothing you can do now, and there's nothing that you could've done at the time. Don't beat yourself up over this."

"Are you saying the Divines just took them away for nothing?"

"I wish I knew . . ." The Orc sighed. Landon sat at the table and just stared into the fire. Morsnaga could only guess what was going through the boy's head.

_Revenge_.

Oh, how it drove men mad. The Foresworn were out for revenge because of the Nords and now this child probably is after the same. It would only lead to bloodshed.

Morsnaga knew this, too. The Nords long ago sacked his community up in Hammerfell's region when he was a lad. The racism and raids have always been, and always will be.

"I — can I be alone?" Landon whispered. Morsnaga nodded, then left the room and shut the door behind him.

Landon truly was all alone now. His parents dead, his sisters . . .dead, alive, enslaved . . . who really knew? The Orc seemed friendly enough, but how was he to know if he could trust him?

He knew very little about them. He heard that they were tall, big, and green. That's about it, other than the savagery they have been said to commit. But Morsnaga was nice — as nice as an Orc could come, Landon guessed.

He could be stubborn with the Orc, or gain his trust. Life would be easier if he just simply gave into his commands. But wouldn't that make him a slave?

He had a place to belong, though. If he angered this new caretaker, he could very easily end up dead.

The door opened, "Ah, sorry," a male voice with a different accent said, "Dro'Darhr meant no trespass. A tall humanized cat said, whipping his tail from side to side, "Master Morsnaga asked Dro'Darhr not to intrude, but Dro'Darhr didn't know which door not to intrude. If you'll excuse poor Dro'Darhr now." The Orcs had a Khajiit with them as well? What's next? A High Elf?


	3. A Sense of Security

A Sense of Security

Audalyn held her baby sister in her arms. The Briarheart of this new Foresworn camp locked them into a tiny room with no windows. They couldn't see anything — not even each other.

"I want mommy," Querida said.

"I know, sweety. Just stay calm. We will make it through this, I promise."

"But what if we don't?"

"Shh. . ." Audalyn rocked her sister back and forth, humming a melody to hopefully put her into a gentle sleep. Audalyn could only try . . .

She and Landon always thought themselves to be Quina and Querida's protectors — which also gave them free right to mess with them and show superiority. Now that she was really in trouble, she could do nothing for her baby sister.

Audalyn couldn't deny her own desires to reach out for her parents. They were supposed to be invincible — untouchable. She had seen her father wounded before, but the lightest touch of her mother's glowing hand would always sew his hunting wounds back up . . .

_They're Dead_. She thought dreadfully. Gone, just like that. How was she supposed to take care of her sister?

The door flying open jolted Audalyn from her melody and caused Querida to squeal. A dark silhouette of a woman shown stark against the bright sun from behind.

"Come on," She growled. Audalyn stood up, hugging her sister on the ascent. The figure backed up, showing more clearly the scars and battle paint plastered on her face. She was a harsh looking figure, dressed lightly in animal attire that the women of the camp stitched together.

"Come with me," She said, "We'll get you started on some work." She stepped out of the way and pointed passed a bridge toward a central plaza of sorts. A camp of smithing equipment, cooking supplies, and even alchemy and enchantment tables were set up in the middle of the living space.

A river ran underneath the bridges, which scared Querida as they walked over.

"Shut the little heifer up!" The woman demanded.

"Shh," Audalyn cooed, but every little thing scared the young girl.

Once they crossed the first bridge, Querida calmed down and the woman began to say, "I will teach you to sew clothes and forge at the smiths so you worthless children will be able to at least provide some usefulness.

The women waiting at the forging fires handed the girls some pelts and instructed them to began making clothes for the Foresworn.

"This is for tanning," She explained, pointing to a tanning rack, "Watch us and learn," She knelt beside the tanner and began working the skin into leather.

"We use the leather for both clothing and armor alike, be sure to keep that in mind. Maybe one of these days we'll be able to put a sword in your hands and hope you'd be able to defend us." She growled unpleasantly.

She showed the girls how to make armor out of steel ingots and leather, then separated the two. Querida went with another woman to continue the armor process, while the harsh woman took Audalyn to work the forge for weapon making.

"I don't trust the crybaby would be any use in this field. Weapon making. I doubt you'll be able to, either. You probably can barely life a dagger, let alone an axe or a hammer. When you construct a decent sword, I'll let you have a little break so our lessons can soak into your dull mind."

The woman added the ingredients and pulled at the ropes to begin melting the steel in the shape of a sword. Once it merged together, she pulled it from the flames and beat it with a hammer to give it more form.

Once it all came into place, she put it in the water crate next to her.

While Audalyn did her best to focus on the roles before her, Querida feared being even this far away from the only family she had left.

She was difficult, and the women could see that.

"All right girl, do your work or you don't get fed. It's that simple. Tan the hide or go back into that black room. Your choice."

"B—but, my sister . . ."

"She's fine. Your fine. Get to work or there'll be trouble." Querida held herself and quivered in the women's presence. She was scared and getting hungry, but she didn't want to move. Her feet remained plastered to the ground.

That is, until the Foresworn woman lost her temper and smacked the girl clear across the face.

"Get moving! Now!" She yelled.

Audalyn looked over at her sister, who was about to burst into tears.

"Keep your eyes on the forge," The Foresworn hissed.

"But Querida —"

"Is proving herself to be baggage. If you want the same done to you, keep gawking at that scene. If you want to stay unpunished, keep your eyes on the goddamned forge."

Thankfully, Querida finally stepped toward the rack and began to make the leather.

"Good. About damn time. If we have to go through this everyday, you will die. Is that understood?"

Landon watched Morsnaga, studying the way he forged and trying to learn it himself. When he handed Landon the ropes, Morsnaga gave him careful step-by-step instructions again, to make sure the Nord got it right the first time.

Landon was exhausted; Dregskab had him working in the mines from morning until late evening. Now, with Morsnaga, he was expected to do something with all the collected ore. He only ate some bread in the morning, so naturally, he was very hungry.

"Malacath smiles on hard work," Dregskab mentioned when Landon complained about being hungry.

"Hey, Morsnaga?" Landon asked, "Who is Malacath?"

"He is our God, a Daedric Prince. We follow him and all our traditions and beliefs spring from him," Landon nodded. He was learning a lot of Orc heritage. He found it surprising that the Chief Orc was only allowed to marry, and he could take as many wives as he wanted. Practically any women not married to him was either his daughter or his mother.

The mother of the chief was granted a spiritual role and sold the potions and poisons. Any sons of the Orc Chief could battle him and defeat his father to claim the right of chief.

Dregskab came to the forge and said, "Well, is everything ready?"

"Yeah, I've got it from here. Let the boy eat and then you can train him."

"Aye. Chief Grishaga wants to see his improvement in a week. Better whip him into shape before he decides to ship 'im off to a bandit hold."

Landon only saw the chief briefly — when he was first bought. He listened to the terms the Foresworn Briarheart and the Chief came to. He was worth a great amount of ore and leather and the chief expected him to become a great warrior. But what he didn't understand was why would they even spare that much for him? Landon admitted to himself he could barely fight . . . From what he heard, becoming a "Blood-Kin" was an exceptionally rare phenomenon, so they wouldn't even consider him to be their own.

So what was the point?

He looked to the side beyond the gate to see the Khajiit Caravan leaving. The cats often stopped by to trade wares and on rare occasions, they are allowed into the hold. They must have been weary enough for the chief to allow them access passed the gate.

"All right whelp, I guess you've earned a break and food," Dregskab said, snapping Landon from a trance.

"Yes, sir."

"Hmmhmm, follow me."

As the day came to an end, Querida was relieved to grab hold of her sister's dress again.

"It's okay . . ." Audalyn tried to soothe, but she knew this place would either make them stronger, or break them to pieces.

She prayed that they would be strong enough to endure whatever these Foresworn savages could throw at them, for she feared that a sense of security no longer existed.


	4. Home Sweet Home

~Home Sweet Home

Landon's vision blurred. He heard horses and felt bumps from a carriage hitting rocks on the pavement. Since when was he on a carriage?

As his vision cleared, he saw the trees, mountains and the sky begin to form as the wave of colors managed to arrange themselves into shapes.

He looked to his left and saw his carriage driver — a man in red Imperial Armor, armor he knew very well from his childhood.

Landon looked further and saw other carts in front of him, all with bound soldiers in what appeared to be blue imperial armor . . .

The others in his cart were bound as well, then he felt his own restraints. _What the Hell happened?_ He thought.

Three other men sat in his cart. The blonde man next him was even gagged, though he wore no armor. Instead looked like more of a noblemen wearing fine clothing in that same blue.

The other blonde man in front of him also wore armor of blue like the rest of them. The last man had on brown rags, similar to Landon's dirt-covered attire.

"Hey, you. You're finally awake," the blonde man in front of him said. Landon shifted his eyes away from the other man and focused on the blonde, "You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial Ambush, same as us and that thief over there," he said, addressing the man in rags.

Landon thought back to it . . . Yes, he was trying to cross the border out of Hammerfell and into Markarth. He didn't expect the onslaught of Imperials to rush at him along with these other soldiers.

"Damn you Stormcloaks! Skyrim was fine 'til you came along. Empire was nice and lazy . . ." Landon glanced at the thief, "If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and be halfway to Hammerfell. You there —" he said, addressing Landon, "You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants!"

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief," Ralof responded.

"Shut up back there!" The Imperial yelled. Ignoring the driver, the horse thief inquired, "And what's wrong with him, huh?" The thief looked at that gagged man.

"Watch your tongue," Ralof spat, "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the True High King."

"Ulfric?" the thief stammered, "The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the Rebellion! But if they've captured you . . . Oh gods! Where are they taking us?"

"I don't know where we are going, but Sovngarde awaits." Ralof said.

"No! This can't be happening. This isn't happening!"

"Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?"

"Why do you care?" He asked, almost sobbing.

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home," Ralof said, trying to calm him.

"Rorikstead. I'm –– I'm from Rorikstead."

"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!" Landon turned his head toward the voice. They approached a town and entered underneath the guards' watch.

"Good. Let's get this over with." Landon, who had remained silent since he woke, uttered a sigh. This is where freedom lead him? To his death? Well, it wasn't like he didn't deserve this . . .

"Shor, Mara, Kynerath, Akatash! Divines, please help me!" A moment of silent reflection passed over as Landon saw the houses pass them by. He saw that the place crawled with Imperials and their steads, along with flags and banners posted around.

When his Orc 'father' was killed, Landon avenged his death by slaying the drunk (probably racist) wondering adventurers that burned down their home and destroyed his passing papers. Landon, obviously, made it from the flames but Morsnaga was not so lucky.

The moment shattered when Ralof cursed, "Look at him, General Tullius, the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this."

As they turned downward, Ralof mused, "This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl here. Wonder if Vilad is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in," he sighed, "Funny. When I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe."

A boy on the streets saw the oncoming carriage wagons, and asked innocently, "Who are they daddy? Where are they going?"

"You need to go inside, little cub," he said softly.

"Why? I want to watch the soldiers?"

"Inside the house. Now," he ordered more forcefully. Th carts came to a wall and slowed.

A woman barking orders told the drivers to stop and the horse thief cried, "Why are we stopping?"

_Isn't that obvious?_ Landon thought.

"Why do you think? End of the line." Ralof explained. They stopped and the prisoners on the other wagon walked off, "Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us." They stood up, but the thief still protested, "No! Wait! We're not rebels!"

"Face your death with some courage, thief." Ralof said as Landon silently followed Ulfric down and waited.

"Step toward the block when we call your name. One at a time!" The woman screamed.

"Empire loves their damned lists," Ralof muttered.

"Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm," an Imperial officer said, reading off the list. As the Jarl walked to join the others, Ralof said, "It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!" After eying the Jarl to make sure he did not do anything shifty, the man called out Ralof's name : Ralof of Riverwood. He followed Ulfric's footsteps as the horse thief's name was called out : Lokir of Rorikstead.

"No! I'm not a rebel!" He cried, still hoping to argue his life's safety, "You can't do this!" He ran and the woman yelled "Halt!"

"You're not gonna kill me!"

"Archers!" A man outside the towers took one clean shot and Lokir went down with a grunt and an arrow in his back.

"Anyone else feel like running?" She asked in that bitchy tone. Landon prayed she died an early death . . .

"Wait. You there. Step forward," Landon did, "Who are you?"

For the first time, Landon spoke in a hushed tone, "Landon."

"You've picked a bad time to come home, kinsman," He scribbled something down on the parchment, then grunted at the woman, "Captain! What should we do? He's not on the list."

"Forget the list. He goes to the block."

"By your orders, Captain. I'm sorry. At least you die here, in your homeland. Follow the captain, prisoner." Landon let the captain walk first, then followed her to the block. An executioner and a priest waited for the killings to begin.

General Tullius addressed the crowd of Stormcloaks, namely Ulfric, by saying in a cocky tone, "Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne," Ulfric grunted something, "You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace." Landon heard something in the distance. Others around him heard it, too. Almost a cry of sorts.

Landon looked to the skies. Nothing abnormal . . .

"What was that?"

"It's nothing. Carry on," Tullius replied.

"Yes, General Tullius," The woman Captain said, "Give them their last rites." The priestess put her arms up and started preaching some divine nonsense.

_Oh Brother,_ Landon thought, _that didn't save Lokir and it sure as hell won't do any of us any good._

"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with," a Stormcloak said. Landon suppressed a laugh.

"As you wish," she scoffed.

"Come on! We haven't got all morning!" He continued as he stepped forward to the block. The Imperial woman pushed a hand to his back and forced him down.

"My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" The man fell to his knees with the Imperial's boot on his back. The hooded executioner raised his axe and severed the man's head from his neck. A rain of blood splattered around him as his head hit the basket.

She kicked his body down and a Stormcloak roared, "You Imperial Bastards!"

"Justice!"

"Death to the Stormcloaks!"

". . . As fearless in death as he was in life," Ralof whispered.

"Next! The Nord in the rags!" She screamed. Landon tensed as she pointed her judgmental finger at him. This was it? His final moment?

_To Hell with it, life sucked this far anyway._

Then their "event" was interrupted by that same cry, only it was louder this time. He looked up, wondering what could make such a noise.

"There it is again! Did you hear that?"

Annoyed, the woman snarled, "I _said_ next prisoner."

"To the block, prisoner, nice and easy." He walked to the block, trying not to look at the decapitated body next to him.

He felt the pressure on his back as he glared at the Imperial reading off the list. He knelt over the head, but turned to his side in order to not look at the head.

The axeman prepared his swing, but was interrupted by a large shadowed figure approaching from behind.

"What in Oblivion is that?"

"Sentries! What do you see? The woman said, finally heading the strange cries as a large creature headed this way.

The creature landed on the tower and ushered a loud screech.

"Dragon!" Someone yelled in astonishment. As the dragon screeched again, the skies darkened and the clouds spiraled into a red funnel. Hails of fire shot from the funnel and the dragon shouted out fire.

Landon pushed himself up and the world around him spun.

"Don't just stand there! Kill the damn thing!" General Tullius commanded." Landon fumbled, trying to pull himself up, as he discovered was hard to do in binds.

"Guards! Get the townspeople to safety!"

"Hey, kinsman! Get up! The gods won't give us another chance!" Someone said, helping Landon up. On his feet, Landon saw Ralof — kind of saw him, his vision still blurred.

"This way!" Ralof commanded, running up a tower. Landon gladly followed inside.

Ulfric and some of his men were also in there. Ralof shut the door behind him.

"Jarl Ulfric! what is that thing? Could the legends be true?"

"Legends don't burn down villages," the Jarl retorted, "We need to move. Now!" A chill went down Landon's back. Something about the Jarl made him feel uneasy.

"Up! Through the tower. Let's go." Ralof hurried up the spiraling tower stairs. Deciding not to linger on it, Landon rushed behind him. As they neared the mid-section, the walls burst open with dragon flames. Ralof jumped back into Landon.

Landon moved back as well and crouched. The dragon growled, "Yol Toor Shul" as he flew away from the tower.

Ralof recovered his footing and ran up the steps next to the rubble. Landon hurried as well, looking out to the sky.

Ralof pointed ahead to a burning building and said, "See the inn on the other side? Jump through the roof and keep going!"

Landon nodded then leapt through the burning roof onto the second floor landing. His arm brushed through the fire on the way down and he muted a shocked cry.

He went down to the first floor and out the door only to meet up with Imperial soldiers, townspeople, and the dragon overhead.

"Hamming! Hamming, you need to get over here! Now!" A soldier said, reaching out to a young boy in the middle of an open street.

The boy came as the soldier reassured, "That a boy. You're doing great," the dragon landed behind him, causing the boy to stumble. Hamming regained footing, however, and darted to what Landon guessed to be his father.

The dragon summoned the shout once more as Landon, the Imperial, and the civilians rushed out of the way behind a burnt house.

"Gods! Everyone back!" The Imperial called. Then he noted Landon's presence, saying, "Still alive, prisoner? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way."

"Why in Hell should I —" The dragon pushed himself upward, cutting Landon off. The Imperial ignored him and told the other man to look after the child," Gods guide you, Hadvar." the elder man said before Hadvar went into the open to rejoin General Tullius' men.

Reluctantly, Landon went with him, keeping his gaze fixed on the dragon.

Quickly, they traversed through a few houses and turned a hard left. The broken floorboards dropped into a ditch and Hadvar jumped into it, telling Landon to stay close to the wall.

Not a second after, the dragon clenched the wall with his front claws and threw out more fire.

"Follow me!" they dashed through more houses. Imperials barked orders that Landon didn't understand in the chaos.

The dragon swooped back down and heaved fire above his head.

Hadvar crouched away from the flame, but didn't waste anytime. Landon kept moving.

They found people on the other end of the destroyed doorway. A woman's body bathed in blood lay in the street and an inured man rested in a corner of fallen support beams.

People screamed and tried to escape the dragon's breath.

Hadvar, on the other hand, proceeded to move, "It's you and me, prisoner. Stay close," Hadvar waited under a bridge as archers beside and above him shot at the flying beast in vain. Landon joined him, but for some reason the dragon stayed glued to his position. He attacked again, but missed Landon.

Hadvar scowled and yelled, "Ralof! You damned traitor!" He charged toward the blonde Stormcloak, "Out of my way!"

Ralof drew his blade and replied, "We're escaping, Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time."

"Fine. I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde," Landon kept his head up, searching any movement that could be dragon or fire.

To Landon's surprise, Ralof and Hadvar charged _passed_ one another. Landon began to follow Hadvar, but Ralof called, "You! Come on, to the keep!"

Unsure of what to do, Landon glanced once toward Hadvar and then to Ralof.

Bewildered, he decided his best bet was to go with the Stormcloak . . . at least he wasn't the one trying to chop off his head moments ago . . .

He heard Hadvar say something, but his survival mode told him to keep running.

Ralof let him into the keep and they found a momentary safety.

A large rounded room with locked iron doors awaited them on the inside. Ralof knelt next to a dark-haired Stormcloak who died.

"We'll meet again in Sovngarde, brother," he stood up and said, "Looks like we're the only ones who made it. That thing was a dragon, no doubt. Just like the children's stories and legends. The harbingers of the End Times. We'd better get moving." Ralof undid Landon's binds, "There you go. You might as well take Gunjar's gear. . . He won't be needing it anymore."

Landon glanced at the dead body and gave a distinct look of disgust.

Hesitantly, Landon undressed the body and pulled the armor, gauntlets, and boots over his rags. He then grabbed Gunjar's war axe and slipped it into his belt.

While Landon dressed himself, Ralof shook the iron-barred doors in hopes of opening a way out. Unfortunately, both ends were locked, "Damn," Ralof breathed, "No way to leave from our side," he though on the next course of action when a distinctive Imperial voice cut through the silence with that annoying voice.

"It's the Imperials! Take cover!" Landon and Ralof took separate walls to stoop behind, but Landon took the captain's coming as a sign of good fortune. He would bash her brains out with this axe and enjoy every second of her bleeding out.

Sweet, sweet Irony.

"Get this gate open," she growled. It opened and the Imperials stepped through. Ralof jumped the first one and Landon focused on the captain.

She pulled out her blade and attacked, to which Landon parried and struck the axe against the bare part of her upper arm.

She gasped and Landon punched her nose. She backed into the other Imperial who Ralof was attacking.

He attacked her and pushed her to the ground. He swung the axe against her throat.

"How's it feel to be on the other end of the axe?" He gloated, then looked at the other Imperial dangerously.

Ralof finished off the other one and worriedly stared at Landon. He then focused on the two laying in front of him, "There's gotta to be a key. Check her and I'll see if he's got it. By the way, I don't think we've properly introduced each other. I'm Ralof if you haven't caught on by now. What's your name?"

"Landon," he said shortly, grabbing the key from her belt and tossing it to Ralof, "Lead the way."


	5. The Path of Companions

The Path of Companions

Quiana ran with the blade between clenched hands. The two-handed ironsword was heavy and she didn't like the feel of the swing, but she had very little option. This bandit wanted to spill her blood, and she wasn't going to be apart of that.

Once she found the door to the hold, she thrust it open and charged the Silver-Hand eating nonchalantly at the table.

They drew their weapons and took up arms against the single threat thrashing a sword around. The sword hit two of them down.

"Mercy!" The bandit cried, holding her wounds while another shot a fireball spell at Quiana. It barely hurt. When a person relies on magic as their strength, she tends to have a great resistance against it.

Quiana threw the sword at the caster, then summoned a flame atronach to protect her. From the warps of purple and blue thunder, a feminine figure appeared in volcanic material and shot flames at her enemies.

With Quiana's other free hand, she quickly began healing herself. Though barely scathed, she liked to make sure she was completely healed before marching into another would-be trap.

She took a one-handed silver sword from the fallen foe, and opened the door into another open room with a few stairs leading up toward another door, leading outside to Skyrim.

She ran toward the steps, but the Silver-Hand got in her way.

"Don't let her escape!" She was attacked by a man dual wielding a sword and a mace. She evaded him and shot the fireball spell at him. Another took out the flame atronach. Quiana rushed away from the radius of the explosion before it erupted.

When it did, it took down two of the Silver-hand, leaving her and the dual wielder. He swung both of them at her in a blitz of power attacks. It connected with her chest, cutting opening just below her neck.

Quickly, she cast her strongest restoration spell, desperately needing to close the wound before she would bleed out entirely.

She had a split second to do so — normally, this would be a near, if not fatal cut.

The man went at her again. As she healed, she hurled the sword up to block the attack, but it meant staggering herself back and losing her feet positioning.

"Tell you what? Why don't you start running, so I can stab you in the back," He mocked. Instead, she conjured a wolf and backed up into the stairs to flee when he was distracted.

"Beast sympathizer and dog conjurer?" He laughed, swiping the dog. The spell broke as the white and blue colors of the dog faded away.

Quiana bolted up the stair to the door. It was locked.

The man followed her, swords raised in one final attack. She spun out of his way and stabbed his side.

"Urgh," He spat, "Damn bitch!" She swung again, meeting his sword and dodged as the other one came over top of her. She ran out the opposite stairs and set a fire trap for if he followed.

To her dismay, she met him going down the other stairs. She set another trap, hoping to catch him in one or the other.

Quiana slid passed the man violently swing his blades in a frenzy, and ran back up the stairs, setting a trap on the top flight.

"Come down and face me!" He taunted. Quiana, on the other hand, decided to use the height advantage and set the sword on the ground. First, she conjured a flame atronach by the Silver-Hand, then shot fire at him.

While he was busy dodging the fire from the atronach, Quiana felt the flow of magic draining her energy. Tired, she paused to refocus her spells.

With the atronach defeated, the Silver-Hand found a bow hooked onto a weapon holder, grabbed it, and shot at Quiana. She docked out of the way, an arrow missing her head by inches.

The next arrow pierced her shoulder. She shrieked, then responded by lashing out another fire spell. When it caught him, the fire flared around him, catching his clothes and the floor around him on fire.

Quiana didn't realize she hit an oil trap, but she thanked the Divines for the luck. After the oil trap lost its fuel, it quelled and finally stopped.

Quiana carefully shot the traps with sparks and cleared out of the way when it exploded. After the room was cleared, she snapped the arrow out of her shoulder, then healed it.

She climbed down the steps to the dead man's body, and searched him for a key. She found it strung around his neck, acting as a necklace.

Frightfully, she hurried back to the door, unlocked it, and felt the breeze of the nighttime air.

Whiterun was a more than simple city, planted right in the middle of Skyrim's vast fields of destroyed fortresses, dangerous wilderness, and spotted mountains. One of the nine Holds, Whiterun's Jarl Balgruuf the Greater sat on his throne in Dragonsreach, dealing daily with the stresses of the current civil war.

Below the steps of Dragonsreach laid the City's Plaza, the wind district : a pretty display of upper-class houses around the Gildergreen Tree. The tree, normally in full blossom, now appeared dead-looking as the Priests of Kyne desperately search ways to revive it to its former glory.

Opposite of the houses of Whiterun are steps that lead to Jorrvaskr, home to the Companions.

On the back patio are tables, food, mead, and the training area, which is overlooked by the Skyforge — it is said that the finest weapons are crafted by the fires of Companion Warriors of Sovngarde.

The early morning air breezes passed Farkas, who is joined by a few of the new recruits. He wasn't much of a talker, and normally sat quietly eating his morning meal before traveling to some reach of Skyrim on a job. Whether it was to slay some beast, save some poor fellow, or hunt down an escaped criminal, Farkas didn't care. His pride lay with the Companions, his family . . .

Aela joined him, expecting Farkas to be there. He nodded to her, then asked, "How's the hunt?"

"Odd. But I can't discuss it here and now. When the circle holds its next meeting, I'll tell you then. Are you going out soon?"

"Yeah, locally though." She nodded, "Hurry back. It may be nothing, but I would like to look into it if possible." Farkas grunted, downed the last of his drink, and set off to work. Skjor exited the back door and said, "Aela, did you tell him yet?"

"No. I told him to finish his job first. I don't see what the problem is. One Silver-Hand fortress wiped out mysteriously . . . well, I'd think it would bring good tidings, don't you?"

"Maybe, maybe not."

"We'll hold a meeting tonight, then. But for now, there's a long list of troubles to tend to. Get busy, Skjor."

"Who are you to tell me what to do?" He scoffed, "But you're right. What's next on the agenda?"

Quiana woke in a damp cave. Unknowingly, she had trespassed into a bear's territory, but her high magic casting burned it to death.

Though it disturbed her, she had to skin the poor creature so she could sleep warmly. It was something the Foresworn taught her to do, and even though she thoroughly despised them, she learned a lot about survival.

She brushed the dried tears off her face, wondering what her next step would be.

She lost everyone all over again. Her father, her mother, her sister . . . Again. This time to these _Silver-Hand_. Her father told her that they were dangerous beings that wanted to do his family harm, and other families that were like him.

Though she questioned him about it, he didn't reveal the answer until she was much older.

Barely awake, she stumbled out of the cave into the bright light of the morning sun. Her skin warmed immediately, and for the first time in the last few days, she felt alive once more.

On the road, she opened her bag and ate the last of the bread her father gave to her.

She had no idea where she was headed, but she prayed that if she kept on the road, she would meet someone willing to either give her a ride or give her directions.

Quiana loved the view of Skyrim, so the journey started as a peaceful one. Her walk went undisturbed for a good fifteen minutes, giving her a chance to admire her environment.

The trees became fewer, and she saw open fields stretching far, and mountains coming into view.

_Where in Oblivion am I?_

She saw mammoths out of the corner of her eye. They were peaceful unless attacked . . . what worried her was that when mammoths were around, that meant bears, sabre cats, and worst of all giants were close by . . .

Bears were usually lone creatures, sabre cats she could handle if there was only one or two, but giants . . . giants were totally different. One hit from them, and it's lights out.

Maybe not, but it was still a better idea not getting involved in that business.

She started into a sprint, feeling it urgent to find a town or a farm soon. She needed out of the wilderness and back into civilization. All of her food was gone and she hadn't had a drink in a day or so.

Though she anticipated being attacked, she was surprised it was by a pack of wolves. Cloaking herself in fire, the wolves that tried to pounce her fried on the spot.

Smiling at her sudden invincibility, she threw flames at the last of the wolves and continued on the path unscathed.

A mountain over her head blocked out the sun and left her in shadows. She frowned. This made a perfect zone for wild beasts to sleep comfortably — and angered if one disturbed their relaxation.

She continued carefully, keeping an eye in the brush, on the road, and over the ledges of the mountain rock.

She encountered two sleeping sabre cats on the stoned path and slowed. If she could sneak passed them undetected, she wouldn't have to fight.

Crouching down and silencing her footsteps, she sidestepped into the grass and practically tip-toed her way around the sleeping predators.

She got around them and started to go uphill, fearing every movement would wake them.

Out of their line of sight, she quickened the pace and watched wearily for any more threats.

In the evening, all the inner circle companion members met in their secret Underforge, with Aela and Skjor directing the conversation, "Last night on our raid, we found the silver-hand slaughtered. Now, I personally enjoy the idea of someone else helping our cause, but Skjor is concerned because we also found fresh bodies . . . werewolves."

"What's the problem?" Farkas asked.

"Well, obviously some escaped and are probably looking for revenge," Skjor interjected, "if we encountered another pack, they may be inclined to assault us as well."

"They could either be an asset or a thorn in our side. Either way, they cleared out a fortress for us," Aela added.

"So if we are to meet this other pack, what should we do?" Vilkas asked, "I don't think getting involved in a war pack would be a good idea. Not when we have other obligations to attend to."

"No. We should just offer our assistance or take our leave," Kadlok agreed.

"Well, not much we can do about it in here," Aela said, "We just wanted to bring that to everyone's attention. Stay sharp, we could be in for a very interesting job." They exited the forge and entered Jorrvaskr.

"There's a giant nearing the Whiterun stables!" Ria, a new recruit said, rushing in the front doors.

Quiana felt miserable. She walked all day, threw spells at beasts who came too close, and outran a giant that managed to spot her. Thankfully, a mammoth interfered in the chase and the giant turned its attention toward dinner.

Quiana fed off of bear meat and berries she found on the road. She came across a pond, but that was hours ago. She was hungry, tired, thirsty, and desperately needed a bath.

The day drew closer to an end, but hope was in sight. She saw the gates of a town off in the near distance.

With an adrenaline rush, she sprinted toward her salvation of the day. She neared a few farming houses, and noticed her fear of giants followed her everywhere. Behind a fence, she could see a giant distracted by several warriors assaulting the beast.

Brushing her dread away, she decided to assist these warriors.

Freezing the giant with ice, she managed to slow him down for the man to attacked, but also allowed him to direct its rage on her.

She was easily faster than he, and sidestepped out of the way. With a thud, the giant's club hit the ground and she countered with fire. She drew the sword fastened around her belt and slashed at its arms.

A female warrior came to her side and began to take swings of her own. Quiana froze him back down, rendering him nearly immobile.

Quiana backed away, waiting for the giant to turn his attention on something else. She seemed to have angered him because his next attack was directed at her.

She jumped back and slashed. The others attacked at the opening and the giant lost his footing and fell over dead.

Quiana caught her breath, swearing to herself she would never do something that god-awful stupid again.

"You handle yourself well," The female warrior said, "You could make for a decent shield-sister."

"What's that?" Quiana asked, though she mostly mouthed it out of being exhausted.

"An outsider, eh? Never heard of the companions? We are an order of warriors, brothers and sisters in honor. And we show up to solve problems, if the coin is good enough." She figured them to be warriors, but the job description sounded like sellswords.

"You think I could join?" She asked, more wondering how a mage like herself would be able to keep up with these strong people. She only used the sword because it was there at her disposal.

"Not for me to say. You'll have to talk to Kadlok Whitemane up in Jorrvaskr. The old man's got a good sense for people. He can look into your eyes and tell your worth. If you go to him, good luck," She came up to Quiana and smiled.

As soon as she got a good look at her and smelled the blood coming off her clothes, she quickly frowned, "Are you bleeding?" She asked in concern.

"No, not from that giant at least. I — had a run-in the other day with some bandits . . . an arrow got me in the shoulder, but it's nothing to —" the warrior snatched the girl's shoulder and pulled the cloth away, "You're bleeding."

"I couldn't get the arrowhead out," She explained, "I was waiting until I could see a doctor to remove it."

"I could for you."

"Really? Thanks for the offer, but I don't have any money."

"Nonsense. You helped us with that giant, remember? Let us repay a favor. My name is Aela."

"Quiana. Nice to meet you."

"Come, I will take you to Jorrvaskr and we can talk about you joining."

"Wait a moment. Though I appreciate the help, I'm not sure that I'm cut out for that kind of work . . ."

"What are you talking about? Your quick on your feet, you use magic, and can wield a sword. I'm sure you'll do fine in our fold."

"Can I please think it over before I commit to something?" This offended Aela, but she nodded anyway.

"Fine, I will patch you up and you can stay at the Bannered Mare tonight — or in our living quarters. It's up to you."

"Thank you." Aela nodded, "Come on, it's getting dark out." Aela took her up the steps that turned through the guard's watch. Upon approaching the gates, Aela explained this new girl was with her and they entered Whiterun.

It had been a long time since Quiana had been in any city since her childhood. Growing up in the beauty of Solitude, Whiterun's size was insignificant, but the air of the city made up for that.

"All the way at the end of the market is the Bannered Mare. Someone's always working the counters for weary travelers like yourself. It's ten coins a room, though, so if you lack the coin we will welcome you for the night."

"I have enough for tonight," Quiana said, "I will meet you in the morning after I get some sleep."

"All right," Aela began walking toward the center of the market place and went up the stairs to the inn.

"We'd like a room," Aela said and Quiana payed.

"Upstairs, room straight ahead. Have a good night."

"Thanks," Quiana said, then followed the instructions. She sat on the bed and Aela began to remove the arrow.

"This is probably going to hurt."

"I know for a fact it will hurt," Quiana pulled the cloth around her arms to expose the wound to Aela.

"So bandits, eh?" She asked.

"Yes. My luck isn't exactly the best. I manage, though."

"What's a girl with barely enough money to survive doing out in the wilderness by herself? Are you asking to get yourself killed?"

"I can fend for myself."

"I'm not doubting that, but you aren't even wearing armor. That sword is the only defense you even have," Aela glanced at the apparel Quiana wore. It was torn and dirty, "Do you have spare clothes."

"I—no, I don't," She admitted, looking away from the blood coming from the arrowhead Aela was working out.

"Where are you from?" Quiana didn't like her asking all these questions. She didn't want to go into all that detail. The Foresworn, the Silver-Hand. . . what did it matter now? Her past needed to stay her past.

"Solitude."

"Solitude? Why are you so far away, then?"

"It's a long story."

"I'm sorry. I'm prying, aren't I? If you don't want to tell me —" She pushed the head closer to the entry wound, making Quiana gasp, "— then you probably have good reason not to. You said you were a healer, right?"

"Yes. . ."

"I'm gonna carve the arrow out, and I want you to heal as soon as that happens. Got it?" Quiana nodded, not liking the sound of what Aela was about to attempt.

Aela pulled out a knife, and began working the arrow out the rest of the way. Quiana focused on restoration spells and tried to ease her muscles.

Relax. . .

Aela pulled the arrowhead out, and Quiana let out a cry. She immediately used Close Wounds and it was over.

"Son of a . . ." Quiana breathed.

"I'll let you get some rest, then. See you in the morning?" Aela asked, not really wanting to leave without Quiana. The Companions always looked for new members — strong members. And, to be honest, she felt protective of this girl.

She couldn't explain it, but she really admired her spirit. Aela was sure Kadlok would give her a good review; he would feel the same about her.

But it was, ultimately, Quiana's choice and Aela couldn't force her into it.

"Good night, Aela." Quiana said, "And thanks." Aela nodded.

"I hope you decide to join us. We could use someone with your talents. In fact, it's been a long time since we had an expert healer in our midst and would prove invaluable on the hunt," Aela left and shut the door behind her. The only thing left to do tonight was return to Jorrvaskr.

Quiana woke feeling well-rested. The bed sure beat a cave's hard, damp floor. She checked her bag and counted the coin she found off of bandits.

She had barely over a hundred pieces, which would get her some food and hopefully she could barter for clothes. Maybe she would take Aela's advice and get armor, but she did know a spell or two that would enhance her defense.

She took her bag downstairs and ordered a drink from the bar. Her dry mouth thanked her for the water running down her throat. Some of the others in the tavern laughed at her for not ordering mead, but that didn't quench her thirst and would only make her unstable.

She set off to the market and bought some bread and meat, then wondered to the inside shops. A woman named Arcadia sold potions, which she bought a few Magicka replenishers.

The shop next door had a whole supply of things, but the man working the counters gave Quiana chills. After she browsed his wares, she knew his equipment was too expensive and left.

"Do come back, now." Again. Chills. She probably wasn't coming back.

She then heard a familiar sound — a forge. She looked toward the Whiterun entrance and noticed a dark woman hammering away. She walked toward her, hoping to buy a leather set. Or, potentially buy some skin and do it herself.

"Excuse me," Quiana said, getting the woman's attention.

"What do you need?" She asked in a gruff tone, turning around.

"I don't have a lot of gold, but I would like to see what you have," she nodded and lead her to a display near her smelter.

"Everything here's for sell." Quiana sifted through the armor, asking the woman about her light armor.

All Quiana needed was a replacement for the ragged tunic she currently wore. She spent the rest of her gold on the leather armor and took it back to the tavern.

"Do you know where I could take a bath?" She asked the lady at the desk. She nodded, "Behind these doors are the lady's tubs."

"Thanks," She went behind the counter toward the back room and found the room.

She undressed and filled a tub with water before rinsing all of her grease and grim off.

After she was done, she dried off and put on the leather top and pants. It fit her well and it felt roomy enough for her. She slid back on her boots and grabbed the brush from her bag.

Her long silvery hair needed it. It was matted and tangled. Looking in the mirror, she mused on how a simple thing like a brush could rejuvenate hair to its former glory.

After she got the tangles out, she put it up in a pony tale and let it flow from the top back of her head.

She felt fresh — new. Better than she had in days. But, she also still felt dirty and lost. She had no more coin and she was out of reasonable options.

Sure, she could roam the rest of Skyrim on no money, or she could take Aela's offer and join the companions.

She went back out to the market place and watched it come to life. She turned up the steps into the Wind District and noticed the sad looking tree. The guards eyed her suspiciously, but said nothing.

Then she saw Jorrvaskr sitting up and a ways from the rest of the city. She went to it, up more steps and saw the front doors. She wondered if she could just walk in or if they would be offended?

She decided to go around the back and found the fencing yard and the patio. Quiana saw a man sitting at one of the tables. He looked familiar and realized he was one of the warriors fighting the giant.

Nervously, she approached the man to ask a question, but didn't know what to say.

Farkas eyed the girl approaching. He recognized her as the mage who helped them with the giant, who Aela went off somewhere with.

Aela mentioned something about it when she got back, but primarily went to sleep and hasn't said much about it since.

Vilkas gathered Aela wanted to incite this girl to join, but she didn't look like much to Farkas. She appeared nervous and, from what he saw, her form wasn't impressive.

He hadn't seen her in Whiterun before, either. She was an outsider and Farkas knew almost nothing about her aside from the fact she favored spells over swords.

At least she was wearing armor today . . .

"You're new," Farkas said as soon as she was in earshot. She looked at him apprehensively and her heart beat fast, "I don't trust the new," he continued, sounding more harsh than he intended.

She felt her blood thicken and was about to walk away when she realized the justification in his claim : here she was, unable to trust these warriors she openly joined battle with.

"You're right," she said, a confidence rising in her voice, "I don't trust you, either," she replied, the color of her voice making it sound more of a recognition than an insult.

This reply surprised Farkas.

"Maybe coming here was a mistake, after all," she sighed, "but where to go from here?" She whispered and her voice trailed off in the breeze. She lost her focus for a moment, lost in thought as she turned to face the horizon passed Whiterun's shambled walls.

Farkas watched her timidly, noting that her tense body relaxed and she now appeared calm.

She went through her list of things to do. She had no place to sleep. She had no money. She could find a job, but if that didn't work she was on the streets tonight or hiking her way to some other city.

Admittedly, she didn't want to travel on the whim that she _might_ find somewhere to rest for the night. The life of a traveler did not fancy her — she didn't want the unknown jumping right at her face.

There was no harm in trying, Quiana finally decided. She turned back toward Farkas who still watched her curiously.

"Do you know where I could find Kadlok Whitemane?"


	6. Bleak Falls Barrow

Bleak Falls Barrow

_Dragons, giant spiders, and cave bears . . . not to mention a civil war and Imperials trying to cut off Stormcloaks' heads — Skyrim definitely knows how to welcome a Nord home_, Landon thought as he and Ralof emerged from a cave.

Relieved, Ralof began to say something, but instead told Landon to duck. They hid behind bristle and rocks as the dragon flew away from Helgen.

As the adrenaline wore off, Landon and Ralof hurried to a town called Riverwood, which was Ralof's hometown. On the way, Ralof explained the war.

Landon remembered his mother, a Priestess of Solitude, worshiped all nine Divines and was angered that her beliefs were supposedly forfeit. His father felt no remorse for it — was only eased to know that the war ended.

Why should it matter to the Elves if Nords worshiped Talos as a God? More importantly, why make such a fuss over it now?

"You should join the Stormcloaks," Ralof added, "We could use someone like you. Teach those Imperials a lesson, right?"

"I'll think about it. No promises." Ralof stopped, "What, you would rather join those Imperials?"

"I'd rather not go sign up for a war that means little to nothing to me. I appreciate your help in escaping, but the fact remains that I wouldn't have been caught if it weren't for you Stormcloaks or 'those' Imperials. I haven't been home for five years; good to know what happens when I leave, huh?"

"That's right, you were crossing the border."

"Yeah,"

"I would love to hear your story on that," Landon nodded and started to sprint again, "I'll tell you on the way, I guess."

Ralof followed, then Landon explained, "When I was nine, the Foresworn attacked my family while we were on route to Markarth. I was sold to a hold of Orcs and lived with them a great majority of my life afterwards. When I was seventeen, the Orcs traded leaders — a son killed his father for power, as is the way of Orcs.

"Morsnaga, whom I was very close with, was the chief's brother. After his brother's passing, he longed to see his home again and we traveled to High Rock and moved from Hammerfell to Morrowind over the next five years. I _had _passing papers, but after someone burned down our house in Hammerfell, I lost both my mentor and all of my traveling papers.

"Truthfully, I despised Hammerfell. When we traveled to Cyrodiil, I felt a little more at ease."

"You grew up in an Orc hold?" Ralof asked in surprise.

"Yeah, wasn't a pleasant experience, but it sure as hell beat the Foresworn. Morsnaga was the only one I really liked, anyway. After he died, I wanted to come back to Skyrim. That moment of longing is gone, however, and I think I miss Hammerfell."

"So the Foresworn?"

"Hmm, yeah. I know they killed my mother and father. Have no idea what happened to my sisters."

"You had a sister?"

"Three. All younger."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't worry about it. It's been . . . hell, it's been nearly fourteen years now. If they survived, I shudder to think what an experience like that would do to them. If they died . . . well, they didn't have to go through Hell."

"Sounds to me that you would have preferred they died."

"Maybe a little," he admitted, "Tell you what, though. Screw the Imperials. I would much favor a legion that hunted down bandits and the Foresworn than other soldiers."

"Whatever you say. My fealty is still to Jarl Ulfric."

"Speaking of which, do you think he got out of there?"

"Of course. No doubt in my mind. Jarl Ulfric probably made it out while the Imperials were distracted with that dragon. Who would've thought a dragon would save our hides?"

"Wish I could say the same for the rest of that town . . . what was it, Helgen?" Ralof nodded.

"Heh, are you sure that the dragon wasn't on our side in the first place?" Landon laughed.

"Seems that way doesn't it?" Ralof nodded, "Although the coming of dragons —"

"Are the harbingers of the end times? You said that earlier. So what, dragons were extinct, but somehow managed to spring back from wherever it is they went?" Ralof shrugged, "I don't know, but would you look at those?" Ralof pointed to three stones with different markings on each, "These are Standing Stones. If you choose one, they will give you power."

Landon looked at the stones. One had a drawing of a hooded man who appeared to be running with a smirk and a bag full of gold.

"That's the Thief Stone," Ralof explained, "That's the Warrior Stone," He pointed to the one with a man in armor with a sword and shield in his hands, "And that — personally, the one I think is useless — the Mage Stone." The last one had a robed figure with a stance of spell casting.

"What are they used for?"

"They enhance your abilities to learn new prowess. For example, the Warrior Stone would allow you to learn combat skills easier and faster — the one I chose, to be honest. There are several more across Skyrim, but I prefer sticking with warrior skills."

"I'm guessing there's a catch to that."

"Not really. Not unless you count only having one blessing at a time a catch," Landon nodded and pressed a hand against the Warrior Stone and felt the surge of a Warrior go through his veins.

"That's a good choice," Ralof nodded, "Anyway, we need to get moving."

For someone in a hurry, Ralof was a talkative person, but Landon guessed that from the moment they first met. He explained that he dreaded the Draugr burial that overshadowed Riverwood and wondered why his sister could live 'beneath a shadow of such a place'.

He said it was called Bleak Falls Barrow — sounded welcoming enough.

A pack of wolves ambushed Ralof and Landon. One jumped right at Landon. He put his arm in the way of the assault, letting the dog to tear the Stormcloak attire and breaking the skin.

Ralof cut down the one that leapt at Landon, and Landon hit the other two.

"You might want to get that looked at. Could've contracted something." Landon nodded, then followed him the rest of the way to Riverwood.

"Looks like no one here knows what happened yet. Come on, Gerdur is probably working in her lumber mill." Ralof said, with more relief in his voice than Landon heard from anyone since the dragon attacked.

Landon checked-out and just kept track of Ralof. Now that everything calmed down, he realized he hadn't eaten since before they tied him up. He guessed he was out a great portion of the day, but he wasn't sure that was really resting.

In short, it had been a long day. He wanted to eat, shop, then sleep.

He followed Ralof across a bridge by the entrance and went around a large mill to an open yard.

"Gerdur!"

"Brother! Mara's mercy," A woman yelled, "It's good to see you," She walked over, concern growing on her brow, "But is it safe for you to be here? We heard Ulfric had been captured."

"Gerdur . . . Gerdur, I'm fine. At least, now I am."

"Are you hurt? What's happened?" She asked, then she looked at Landon, "And who's this? One of your comrades?"

"Not a comrade, yet, but a friend. I owe him my life, in fact. His name's Landon. Is there somewhere we can talk? There's no telling when the news from Helgen will reach the Imperials."

"Helgen? Has something happened? You're right. Follow me."

She took them further away, by a tree stump and one in full bloom, "Hod! Come here a minute. I need your help with something.

"What is it woman?"

"Hod, just come here."

"Ralof! What are you doing here?" Hod worked his way off the mill and a young boy ran up to Ralof, excitedly saying, "Uncle Ralof! Can I see your axe? How many Imperials have you killed? Do you really know Ulfric Stormcloak?"

"Hush, Frodnar. This is no time for your games," Gerdur scolded, "Go and watch the south road. Come find us if you see any Imperial soldiers coming."

"Aw mama, I want to stay and talk with Uncle Ralof!" The boy protested, but Ralof interjected, "Ah, look at you! Almost a grown man! Won't be long until you're joining the fight yourself."

"That's right! Don't worry Uncle Ralof, I won't let those soldiers sneak up on you." The boy ran off just as excited and Hod approached Ralof and Gerdur. Ralof, yawning, sat down on the old stump and Hod said, "Ralof, what's going on? You two look pretty well done in."

"I can't remember when I last slept," he admitted, then began explaining, "Where to start? Well, the news about Ulfric was true. The Imperials ambushed outside of Darkwater Crossing," Ralof paused, "Like they knew exactly where we'd be. That was . . . two days ago, now." Ralof stretched out and Landon listened in full attention.

"We stopped in Helgen this morning, and I thought it was all over. Had us lined up to the Headsman's block and ready to start chopping."

"The cowards!" She cursed.

"They wouldn't dare give Ulfric a fair trial. Treason, for fighting for your own people! All of Skyrim would have seen the truth, then. But then, out of nowhere, a dragon attacked . . ."

"You don't mean . . . a real live . . .?"

"I can hardly believe it myself, and I was there. As strange as it sounds, we would be dead if not for that dragon. In the confusion, we managed to slip away. Are we really the first to make it to Riverwood?"

"Nobody else has come up the south road today, as far as I know."

"Good. Maybe we can lay up for a while. I hate to put your family in danger, Gerdur, but..."

"Nonsense. You and your friend are welcome to stay here as long as you need. Let me worry about the Imperials. Any friend of Ralof is a friend of mine." She approached Landon, and handed him a key, "This is a key to our house. If there's anything else you need, just let me know," She lead him back to their house back across the bridge passed the in and the shops.

"There's food and supplies. Take what you need, within reason." Landon nodded in appreciation, then took a bare minimum of food. He picked up some gold pieces from corpses, so if need be, he could buy and sell things later.

"There is something you could do for me," Gerdur suggested, "For all of us here," Landon nodded, "Of course. What do you need?"

"The Jarl needs to know there's a dragon on the loose. Riverwood is defenseless. . . We need to get word to Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun to send whatever troops he can. If you do that for me, I'll be in your debt."

"Okay. I need a map first and the location. It's been . . . a long time since I've been in Skyrim."

"All right, here," She pulled a map from a drawer and marked Riverwood's location and showed Whiterun and how to get there.

"Take this road. You'll make it in Whiterun before you know it."

"Thanks. I'll see you around."

"Wait, you aren't staying?" Landon shrugged, "Nah, I think I'll be good on my own. Thanks for everything." Ralof shook his head, "You aren't going anywhere until you've rested up. You aren't any use to Skyrim dead, you know." Landon rolled his eyes, "fine, I'm going to check out the trader, then I'll come back and rest."

Landon made it to the entrance of Whiterun as the sky dimmed. After he came back from the trader, he reluctantly fell asleep and, well, stayed asleep until late afternoon. After he woke up, he got on the road to Whiterun and marked Bleak Falls Barrow on the map.

Apparently the trader got robbed a while back and the thief likes to hang out with dead Draugr. Landon told them he would try and find it, but he needed to see the Jarl first.

Now that he was on the inside of Whiterun with dusk slowly approaching, he hesitated on proceeding to meet with the man. He would not appreciate a strange man, who not eight hours ago was sentenced to death, wandering into his halls.

He did promise Gerdur to tell the Jarl about the recent dragon attack. The guards seemed well aware, though, so he wasn't sure if he would just be pestering the man with matters he already knew about.

"We'll pay whatever it takes. But we must have more swords for the Imperial Soldiers," A man talking to a dark skinned woman said, catching Landon's attention. He wore Imperial armor and was a large Nord man with blonde hair.

"I just don't know if I can fill an order that size on my own." She replied, obviously exhausted and just ready for her head to hit a pillow, "Why don't you swallow that pride of yours and ask Eorlund Gray-Mane for help?"

"Ha!" He scoffed, "I'd sooner bend a knee to Ulfric Stormcloak. Besides, the Gray-Manes would never make steel for the legion."

"Have it your way. I'll take the job, but don't expect a miracle," She walked away from the man and he did the same.

Shaking his head, Landon shrugged and followed the path up to the market place, then saw the stairs. Going up the stairs, he saw the dead tree in the center of the wind district.

The only few people he saw at this hour were guards and weary townspeople entering their houses for the night. Around the tree were more stairs, leading up to a grand palace that overlooked the rest of Whiterun.

Landon guessed that was Dragonsreach.

Ascending to that palace, he passed guards who gave him a suspicious glare, wordlessly warning him not to cause any trouble.

At the final step he saw the large doors and approached wearily. Opening the door, he found himself in a long throne room, with a cathedral ceiling and a fire in the center. Tables lined either side of the fire and two doors lead to the left and right with one staircase passed where the Jarl sat.

He walked up, unsure what to expect.

A dark elf, heavily armed and very strict looking, unsheathed her sword and carefully made her way toward Landon.

Landon grasped the hilt of his own axe in preparation for a fight. He didn't draw it, just kept his hand tightly on it.

"What's the meaning of this interruption? Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving visitors," Landon released the handle, and replied, "Gerdur sent me. Riverwood is in danger."

"As housecarl, my job is to deal with all dangers that threaten the Jarl or his people. So you have my attention, explain yourself." Landon nodded, then answered, "A dragon has destroyed Helgen."

"You know about Helgen? The Jarl will want to speak with you personally. Approach." She put the weapon away and went back to her station. Landon followed and stopped at the steps before the Jarl.

"So you were at Helgen? You saw this dragon with your own eyes?" Landon thought of a snarky answer, but decided to go with a straight response and simply said, "The dragon destroyed Helgen," He felt silly for repeated this yet again, "And last I saw, it was heading this way." The Jarl's tone changed, and he growled, "By Ysmir, Irileth was right! What do you say now, Proventus? Shall we continue to trust in the strength of our walls? Against a dragon?" He asked his steward, a man wearing fine blue robes with a greatsword hanging off his back.

"My Lord, we should send troops to Riverwood at once," the dark elf said, "It's in the most immediate danger, if that dragon's lurking in the mountains . . ."

The man named Proventus protested, talking about the Jarl of Falkreath viewing the act as a provocation to join sides with the Stormcloaks.

"Enough!" The Jarl said, "I'll not stand idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people! Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once."

"Yes, my Jarl." The dark elf put her hand over her chest in compliance.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll return to my duties," said Proventus.

"That would be best," The Jarl agreed, "Well done. You sought me out on your own initiative. You've done Whiterun a service, and I won't forget it. Here, take this as a token of my esteem," He stood up and pulled steel armor off the wall, then handed it over to Landon.

"Thank you, Jarl Balgruuf," Landon nodded, holding the armor. It looked more sturdy than the Stormcloak attire he wore now. When morning came again, he would wear it, but for now he just held on to it.

"There is another thing you could do for me. Suitable for someone of your particular talents, perhaps."

"What did you have in mind?" Landon asked, not wanting to offend the Jarl, but he was already annoyed by everyone thinking he was some sort of errand runner.

"Come, let's go find Farengar. He's my court wizard. He's been looking into a matter related to these dragons and . . . rumors of dragons."

He walked toward the left room and expected Landon to come with him. They were in a room with a giant map on a board, an enchanter and an alchemy table on the walls, and a table with books and soul gems in the middle. Two other doors were on opposite ends.

"Farengar, I think I've found someone who can help with your dragon project. Go ahead, fill him in with all the details."

A mage sat up from his desk, "So the Jarl thinks you can be of use to me? Oh yes, he must be referring to my research into the dragons. Yes, I could use someone to fetch something for me," he nodded, inspecting Landon, "Well, when I say 'fetch', I really mean delve into a dangerous ruin in search of an ancient stone tablet that may or may not actually be there."

Landon raised an eyebrow, then laughed, "Of course. What does this tablet have to do with dragons?" Farengar almost seemed impressed when he said, "Ah, no mere brute mercenary, but a thinker — perhaps even a scholar?"

"Well, I don't know about that," he mumbled, but Farengar didn't catch that.

"You see, when the stories of dragons began to circulate, many dismissed them as mere fantasies, rumors, impossibilities. One sure mark of a fool is to dismiss anything that falls outside his experience as being impossible. But I began to search for information about dragons — where had they gone all those years ago? And where were they coming from?"

"So what do you need me to do?"

"I, uh, learned of a stone tablet said to be housed in Bleak Falls Barrow — a 'Dragonstone', said to contain a map of dragon burial sites. Go to Bleak Falls Barrow, find this tablet — no doubt interred in the main chamber — and bring it to me. Simplicity itself." Landon chuckled again.

"What's so funny?" Farengar asked.

"Oh, nothing. I just promised somebody that I would go looking for something today. In Bleak Falls Barrow. Well, I'm curious now. Time to go see what awaits."

Landon left Dragonsreach in a somewhat humored mood. He stopped by the Bannered Mare and rested for the remainder of the night before leaving for Bleak Falls Barrow.

Landon came to the end of Bleak Falls Barrow. He heard a steady humming beat and couldn't figure out what he was hearing.

As he approached the entrance of a cavern, bats flew into his face. After he shook his hands to wave off the unexpected creatures, he saw a wall. The humming became louder as he focused on that wall.

It was saying something. Written on the wall were markings he knew weren't in his own language, but it kept Vibrating, louder and louder until he felt it in his very soul.

_Fus. Fus. Fus. Fus. _It chanted over and over again. A strange light emitted from the wall and swarmed around his body. He felt exhausted and placed his hand on the wall.

The only thing he could think of was the word _Fus_.

It reverberated in his entire being and became one with him. Landon did not understand what it all meant, but the word filled him with a new light and his exhaustion soon bloomed into an energy he never felt before.

He was powerful, and felt like he was destined to conquer the world.

Something sprang from a coffin he did not notice earlier. A draugr, who pulled out a greatsword.

He drew his own weapons and eagerly fought this opponent.

They fought and Landon was much faster than the draugr's slowed movements. With his dual wielding furry, Landon sliced the draugr back into death.

He found the dragon tablet the Jarl sent him out to fetch in the draugr's armor. Landon wondered how that would help the dragon issues, but he decided to leave it to the court wizard.

Next to the coffin was a chest of valuables the draugr must have possessed in life. One of the weapons was an enchanted blade that glowed with purple energy. It was something he never saw before, and would ask Farengar about it later.

He glanced at the wall again. It was now silent, but he could still hear the beating internally as the highlighted word dimmed back into the wall. It was still, with no lights or sound.

"Fus," He whispered, but nothing happened. He would worry about it later, he concluded.

There was a back entrance behind the walls and a chain that activated a secret entrance in the stone.

It took him to another cave mouth that overlooked parts of Skyrim's grass lands. He carefully climbed back down the mountain and started back to Whiterun.

Then he paused, looking at the Golden Claw he found on a person. This must be what those traders were looking for.

Riverwood was closer, anyway, so he went to return the stolen claw.

He saw Riverwood come into view almost immediately, and noticed someone else traveled these dangerous roads. A woman with a hood over her face, and a hand gripped firmly on her blade. She was prepared for the worst.

She gave Landon a suspicious glare, hoping to tell him not to pull anything in her presence. He nodded to her, making sure she understood he wanted nothing to do with her. He caught sight of a faint wisp of blonde hair and a face aged by war and grief.

Whomever this traveler was, she must have reason to be cautious.

Leaving that woman out of his thoughts, he entered the trader and graciously handed the claw back over, "I found it."

"Ah! You did it! Funny, it's much smaller than I remember it being. Thank you very much, here, as promised," He handed Landon a purse filled with coin.

"You did it!" His sister proclaimed.

"You're welcome," Landon smiled, then left them to their joyous news.

Now, it was time to return to the Jarl and his mage to finish this business up and continue on his way. Leaving the town, he overheard two guards mumble, "Did you hear? The Emperor of Skyrim — Dead. These are dark times, friend."

". . . No! I thought that Commander Maro handled those assassins?"

"It seems that one survived, and took out a whole ship by herself!" The first guard said, "She was the one the Imperial Guards were after this entire time, and they assumed that she was killed. Now, she could be anywhere, under any disguise."

"You're right. These are dark times." They saw Landon had overheard much of that, then the second guard said, "No lollygagin'." He nodded, then quickly followed the road back to Whiterun.


	7. Call of Assassins and Theives

The Call of Thieves

Maven Black-Briar, who was overly stressed, was now outright confused. Last week she heard that the final few members of the Dark Brotherhood were found, hunted, and burned alive like cornered skeevers. And now, not five minutes ago, she heard the Emperor was murdered in his ship returning home.

So what was the truth?

She tried to contact Astrid on several different occasions, sending letters to the usual dead-drops. But no one took the letters or the pre-paid payment.

Maybe someone else had enough backbone to finish the job . . . but who else would it be?

A nighttime chill indicated it was time to go in. She rented a room (for free, of course) in the inn in Riften. Too much needed her valuable attention, and besides, she had a Thalmor Party to prepare for.

She hurried inside with her usual expression — one that said back off, or I will end your life in one manner or another. Prison, death, debt . . . it didn't really matter.

She went upstairs and opened her door to find an unfamiliar face.

"Who do you think you are?" Maven hissed.

"Come, now, is that anyway to greet a friend?" a feminine figure dressed in black armor with a shrouded cowl said.

"I won't ask again. Who are you or I call the guards and haul you to the Riften Prison." The figure pulled off the mask, reveling a pale women with shoulder-length silver hair.

"Fine, fine. Down to business, then. Nazir mentioned you were one of Astrid's main employers."

"Astrid?" Maven regained her composure and shut the door, "You mean—"

"Oh yes, our dark sister of, well, an interesting business, let us say, hmm?"

"Where is she?" Maven demanded, "Why has she sent . . . _you_."

"I think we're at a misunderstanding. You see, our mutual friend Astrid is no longer with us. Fire killed her, her husband, and her brothers. Unfortunate, really, she sends you her regards from the void."

"Go on." She growled.

"So, it falls to me to make sure everything is rebuilt, redone. And if you employed her, it must have been for good purpose."

"Why you? I've never even heard of you."

"Oh, I'm sure you have. My name is lost to history, but my deed will be forever known."

"What are you talking about?"

"You can just call me _Listener_. Everyone else does."

"Listener?" Now things were beginning to make more sense, "You're the one who . . . nevermind. How can I help you?"

"Well, I'm sure that's already crossed your mind. I've been told you send things to a dead-drop, am I right?"

"Yes."

"Here," She handed a folded up paper, "Look it over and memorize these two locations. Do you think you can remember that?"

"Do you think me a fool?"

"Contract those claws Miss Black-Briar, I mean no offense. I just wanted to know if you can keep those memorized."

"Of course I can."

"Then burn it. I need to keep our tracks covered. We may have come out of this alive and with a name again, but we still have fresh wounds . . . I have a lot of mess to clean up, thanks to Astrid."

"What do you mean?"

"Ahh, nothing. Wouldn't do much good to harp on the deeds of the dead and deceased."

Maven glanced at her with suspicion, then dropped the note in the fire, "Well, Listener, it seems that you and I have an understanding now. I'll let you know if I require your services. It does me good to know that I haven't lost a weapon. Gods know I'm losing another one."

"What do you mean?" The mysterious Listener asked, her own interest peaking.

"It really doesn't concern — wait a moment. You — you still have strong ties with the Thieves Guild, correct?"

"Ah, yes, the rats living in the sewers. I've met their acquaintance a couple of times. Nice bunch, that outfit. What about it?"

"They're slowly starting to rot away to nothing. First, the clients stopped contacting, then the skilled left Skyrim to pursue bigger and better opportunities, and now their name is losing their menace. What good's a guild to me if they don't hold power and fear over the citizens of Skyrim?"

"I sympathize with your plight, but what do you think I could do about that? My hands are tied as it is and besides, I've already spent plenty of time in Riften. I need to get back to my station."

"Yes, I'm well aware of that now. Do as you please, I suppose, and I'll contact you if I need any dirty work done."

"Haha, oh the Thieves Guild. To think, had my choices been different, I could've ended up as one of them. I'm glad I chose this route instead. A lot more money and respect, at least. You know what? I changed my mind. I'll give that redhead a visit. What was his name again . . .?"

"Brynjolf."

"Ah, right. I'll give him a nice little chat before heading out. Good doing business with you, Miss Maven."

"Right. You too. Now, get out of my room." The Listener smiled, then headed toward the ratway again.

XXX

Spacing

As always, the stench pierced her nose and the Listener cursed at the filth. She already activated the drawbridge lever on her last visit, and made it into that large open space where a lowlife called home. She killed him. He attacked her, what choice did she have?

She went down the stairs and opened the door that lead into the Ragged Flagon.

Dirge stood guard like a good little soldier while the familiar faces drank their mead. She walked passed him and he said his usual line of 'don't make any trouble or blah blah blah'. He was too dense to remember who she was.

"I'll try to keep my hands clean," She laughed. Dirge twitched, then said, "You have a lot of nerve, coming down here and acting like you own —"

"Please, shut-up. I'm not here to speak with you and I'm not here to cause trouble — well, at first I wasn't, but now I'm not sure if I can pass up the opportunity to piss off a bunch of hotheads."

"The last person who made trouble for Dirge ended up taking a nose-dive into the sewer's cistern," An irritated woman's voice called, "Are you sure you want to keep talking?"

"Oh please. You think Dirge is the first meathead I've come across? Empty threats don't scare me."

"They should if you want to live."

"Wait a moment. I know that voice," Devin Mallory said, "Ah, if it isn't the Dark Brotherhood. Here on more official business?"

"Brotherhood?" Tonilia said, "What's she doing here?"

"Dunno. Guess we're gonna find out. How's Astrid doing?"

"Heh, guess you guys don't paying attention to town gossip much, do you? She's dead. Burnt to a crisp and heart slashed with her own dagger. Beautiful way to die, isn't it?"

"She's dead?" He repeated in shock.

"That's what I just said, yes. Anyway, that's not why I came here. Had an interesting chat with Maven Black-Briar. Word on the street is you're outfit isn't doing so hot."

"That's not any of your business," Vex said, approaching the lone figure, "What gives you the right to come meddling in our affairs? Just because you're some pain in the ass assassin who's overstepped her boundaries? You are so dead."

"Now, now, if we kill each other, Maven wouldn't be impressed. We can handle this like adults, can't we?" The Listener said.

"Tch, bitch, Maven doesn't care about your life or ours." Vex said.

"No, but she cares about power. I made an agreement — rather, just reinforced an already established one — and now we're bff's who never have to look each other in the face again. Now, she wouldn't appreciate it if I carve you down to your bones and leave your eyeballs for the skeevers to devour, would she?"

The Thieves Guild members stared at this unwanted visitor. The Listener added, "I heard there was a crazy chef in the barrens who actually _does_ eat human flesh. Oh! Babette needs more alchemy ingredients. I'm _sure_ she can use the meat. Sorry, did I flip my lid? Loose the last shred of sanity I had left? No, no, I'm just a little crazy and a little high. So high, haven't come back down yet. Not since killing the Emperor. That was fun."

She glanced between the members, obviously silencing them. She was good at that, making hard asses speechless.

"What's going on here?" A man with a heavy accent, somewhat similar to Devin's, asked. He obviously felt the tension in this small sewer room.

"A member of the Dark Brotherhood," Vex said sarcastically, "She's gracing us with an unexpected appearance."

"Dark Brotherhood?" The man said in astonishment, "What do you need, lass?" It was Brynjolf.

"Ah, just the man I was looking for. How's it going, Brynjolf?"

"Who are you?" The Listener play frowned, exposed more of her face and looked hurt.

"You don't remember me? That crushes a lady's heart, you realize." Brynjolf gave her a once over, unable to determine what she was getting at. Rolling her eyes, she completely took off the cowl.

Instantly he remembered. It was months ago, but nevertheless he couldn't forget a girl as pale as snow with silver hair. It was just so uncommon.

"I asked you to do a task for me," Brynjolf said, "but you said —"

"'Are you crazy? Break the law?' Yes, I think I know what I said, Bryn."

"So what are you doing here? You sure seem to have a knack at law-breaking, so have you decided to join us after all? Or is killing way too much fun for you? How many people have you killed anyway?"

"Hm," She put her hand under her chin and pretended to ponder his questions, "Let's see here . . . too many to count. You know, life has taken me all over. Born in Solitude, life ruined in Markarth, rebuilt in Windhelm . . . Ah yes, that little orphan boy told me a sad story about the tragic and sudden death of his mother. Illness can be quite a bitch. He mistook me for an assassin — yes, at the time I was just a girl making a living by killing off bandits. Then I gutted the matron. What was her name? Grelod the Kind? Anyway, that doesn't matter. You were trying to get me to do something . . . illegal, and I needed to make sure no one linked me to that murder."

"I don't understand what you're talking about."

"I just needed to vent. I need to write a book or something."

"If you have no business here, then you need to leave lass." She sighed, "All right, don't get your granny panties in a bunch. Maven and I talked, as I said to your partners, associates, brothers . . . whatever. It seems that you guys are struggling some."

"We can take care of our own, thank you. We don't need some assassin telling us we need anything," Tonilia replied.

"Funny, because no one here seemed to know that my family was allegedly all dead and that our plot to kill the Emperor died with the rest of us. Not so. I found him and killed him. And even did a favor for the old man. His final request."

"And?"

"And you're behind on current events. Everyone in Riften is talking about it, and yet you haven't caught wind of it? My, my, keep held up like rats in the sewer, unseen by the rest of mankind."

"That's enough," Brynjolf ordered.

"Hey," She held up her hands, "I'm just trying for a good time and you're making this way too easy for me. You should try to relax, maybe take some yoga classes, hm?" Brynjolf glared at the dark figure.

"When is the last time you've come up for air, anyway?" Brynjolf remained silent and Vex was about to say something nasty to her, when Devin said, "All right everybody. Let's all take a deep breath, okay?"

"So, the clients have dried up like a lake in hot sun and you fishies are frying with the puddles. I get it. I totally get it. Hell, we just dug ourselves out of a spot like that, too. All you need is a flooded rain and you'll be drinking coin in for a long time. Gods, I'm sick of this metaphor. Somehow, we need to get you guys some clientèle. How do we go about that?"

"These are questions for Mercer Frey," Brynjolf interjected, "and for myself. If you truly wish to help, though, you might want to speak with him. I'll talk to him, you wait here."

"Hmm, y'know, I have important, uh, people to meet with. It's to die for, really, so I'll meet you in the morning. How's that? I'll be back later. Kay? Ciao." Mercer Frey. That man gave her chills, which was surprising. He just had that overall creeper vibe. She walked out, leaving Brynjolf to shake his head and unlock the cistern. Might as well talk to Mercer about all of this.

XXX

Scene Change

Spacing issues really suck..

Audalyn finally had enough. She had played servant-girl to these bandits long enough. She lost her family to them and she wasn't about to lose the last shred of herself she had left.

She feared the bandits and cursed them for killing straggling adventurers for their money purses, jewels, and weapons.

She lost count of the years she spent cleaning up after them — everything from fixing beds to fixing dinner, cleaning pots to washing blood off of septims.

And now, she was a woman stuck in the midst of a bandit hold filled with sex-starved men. When she was younger, they ignored her. As she aged, she gained unwanted attention.

The bandit leader came into the room, drunk off of mead and held a purse full of stolen gold. He stumbled into the wall and kicked the door shut. She backed up instinctively, knowing that mead and bandits didn't cross over very well.

Not for her it didn't.

Audalyn noticed the way he stared at her and a shiver ran down her spine.

He found his way to her and grabbed her shoulders. While he was fixed on her, Audalyn eyed a dagger hooked around his belt.

The door was shut. No one would notice. Not yet, anyway.

She slipped from his grasp with the dagger in hand and he fell onto the bed he tried pushing Audalyn onto.

She ran up to him, grabbed the back of his hair and pulled, exposing his neck.

She slit his drunk throat and heard him choke on his own blood. Glad that he made no loud noises in dying, she opened the door to see if the others were outside his chambers. Luckily, no one was around at this hour of the night.

At the foot of his bed was a chest. She opened it and found better equipment and put that on over the rags they dressed her in, then eyed the bandit leader one last time.

She knew of his mead habits — so she spiked his drink with an immobilizing toxin she made after her last escape from the Foresworn.

Little did she know that dumb luck would spring her right into another trap — another bandit hold, the same story with different people.

Even though they took the poison from her, she was astonishingly good at sneaking around and taking items when everyone else was focused on something else.

She swapped the poison bottle with an ale bottle and held onto it until she had the perfect opportunity to strike back . . .

And when he asked her to brew a batch of mead . . . she knew that she would escape tonight unscathed.

Well, that was still to be determined. She still had to get passed the rest of the bandits and, even though she left the rest of the brew for grabs, she wasn't sure if everyone managed to drink her little creation.

So Audalyn stuck to the shadows, keeping her head down, but eyes up and searching. She prayed to Lady Luck and hoped she was on her side tonight.

She snatched a bow from a wall and found only three spare arrows on the table beside it. She pocketed the knife, put the arrows into a quiver and placed that on her back.

If she found more arrows, this would go over easy.

Quietly, she opened the next door, expecting to be some lone watchdog on duty. He sipped on her special brew and looked as if he was about to doze off.

She waited patiently, knowing that the effects would put him to sleep and she didn't want to waste an arrow knocking him out of the picture — not when ten others were around here somewhere.

She saw him shake to wake himself back up and knew that she was safe to move.

Avoiding the torchlights, she stayed behind pillars and shambled debris. He stood up, making her stop dead in her tracks and positioned her body behind the pillar to hide.

He stretched, walked around some, and looked in the doorway Audalyn was trying to escape out.

"Thought I heard something . . ." He mumbled before sitting down and drinking the rest of the mead, "Damn, the boss's gonna kill me'f I pass out," he yawned, "get Rem to do night watch tomorrow."

After he stopped talking to himself, Audalyn watched him carefully and tip-toed softly off the debris. She kept herself glued to the wall and did not take her eyes off him until she made it to the door and safely left.

This old fortress had several floors and stairs, though, so making it passed one was not a real accomplishment.

She went down a flight of stairs to the main levels and saw that several of them were gambling with the gold they robbed.

"Damn it," she whispered.

She could potentially kill one of them with her bow, but that left the three others and the wounded one if he lived.

She looked around and found a cubby hole of sorts in the corner that would be perfect for her to hide in.

She practically crawled to her destination and stalked her prey. Carefully knocking the arrow into place, she picked the man closest to her and aimed for his neck. A perfect sensitive spot . . .

She let the arrow fly and it hit her mark. The man fell over holding his neck.

"Who's there?" One growled as they all jumped from their seats and took their arms.

Audalyn moved further in the shadows, lowering the bow and drawing the dagger in the process.

One went to the door, the other two came up the steps toward Audalyn's cove. She held her breath and watched the men nervously.

One split toward the leader's chambers and the other looked around the landing.

_Damn, they're going to get the watchdog. I should have eliminated him as well_, Audalyn realized.

"The arrow came from up here . . ." he said, following the trajectory line. _Son of a bitch, he's going to find me._

He approached apprehensively, signaling to the others, "Over here. I see her."

So much for that strategy. Audalyn leapt at the man with her dagger aimed for a soft spot between the neck and shoulder.

She drove it into his neck and pulled the axe around his belt. She swung that axe across his chest and pushed the deadweight into the man rushing up the steps.

He tumbled over and Audalyn ran after him with the axe raised.

She thrust the axe at the limp man, cutting his torso. Out of time to properly finish him off, she went back up to finish the other two before the whole fortress was alerted.

She glanced over at the table. There were four tankards of mead. _So why weren't they affected?_ She wondered.

A split second later her focus was back at the man rushing her. Smarter than the average bandit, he actually put on a helmet and armor while she was distracted with the other two.

He swung at her and his sword collided with her axe, staggering her down. She went ahead and jumped down the stairs to nullify his uphill advantage.

He hurried after her and swung again. She threw the dagger, hitting his wrists and making him yell in pain. She quickly attacked and hit his armor. He retaliated with a swing of his own, which Audalyn blocked with the handle.

He came after her as they exchanged blows, the blades never making skin contact.

"What's going on?" A few more came in, fully armed and weapons raised.

"Where have you been?" The man Audalyn fought spat, "This bitch killed the Chief." Audalyn punched the man and ran back upstairs.

She was cornered and needed to find a new escape. Killing them all would probably be out of the question.

The man she fought and the three new men crowded around the stairs and sneered at her.

"You're quite the feisty one, aren't you? Come on down and maybe we'll forgive you."

"Not a damn chance," Audalyn replied. She was dead either way. She could try running and escaping, but no matter what she did now, her chances did not look good.

She was going to die here.

XXX

XXX

The Listener followed the road back to Windhelm and passed a fortress. Bandits. Typical for this type of scenery. Out of the way, far from civilization, and, ironically, protected by beasts that normally attacked travelers.

Perfect.

She decided to slip in and pay these 'friends' a visit. A good chance to practice her stealth and plunder their stolen goods.

Under the protection of the night, she was undectable. But that wasn't the only advantage she had, as the Listener soon noticed.

Half the men on watch were knocked out, and the rest were dumbed. A poison, perhaps? A mass amount, if she guessed correctly.

Someone already struck this bandit hold. But who would have enough guts to do so?

Curiously, the Listener opened the locked door into the stronghold of this bandit home. She wanted to see the culprit responsible for taking the fun out of this hunt.

After sneaking and planting her blade in the necks of her foes, she found a cornered woman being attacked by bandits.

Quicker than the men could tell, the Listener drove her Blazing Dagger and her Blade of Woe into two men, which left one last bandit left standing.

She drew a dull knife and thrust it into the bandits esophagus.

"And who might you be — wait," The Listener gave the dark haired girl a once-over, "Audalyn . . ."

"And who are you?" The woman's face was garbed in a black cowl, but she instantly recognized her eyes, "Querida?" She smiled.

"My sister, how long has it been? Come, I will take you to safety." She retrieved her daggers and told Audalyn to loot the bodies for gold before heading out the bandit's fortress.

"You've been looking for me?" Audalyn asked, "How long have you been free?" She took off the headdress and smiled, "A long time, thanks to some Stormcloak soldiers who found and rescued me. Ever since then, I've sworn undying loyalty to Ulfric and his cause. You should, too, if you think you can fight a war."

"You're a Stormcloak?" Audalyn asked.

"The Empire can barely hold its own anymore. Why do you think our parents died? Because they were too weak to save us from the Forsworn, so trust me when I say that Ulfric is the only one who can save this land from both those damned elves and the Forsworn who ruined our lives."

They escaped into the night air, "Refreshing, isn't it? Congrats, Audalyn, you are free now, too." Querida approached a black horse with red eyes and Audalyn could only stare at the strange animal.

"His name is Shadowmere. He's a good horse, loyal and strong. Ride him, you must be exhausted."

"Why are his eyes —" She looked at the strange glowing eyes, "Why are they so devilish?" Querida smiled, "If only you knew where I acquired him from. It doesn't matter, just know as long as I don't perceive you as a threat than neither will he."

XXX

XXX-

"And this is Riften," Querida announced as the round wooden gates came into view. The guard approached and was about to say something, then recognized the black horse and the woman riding it.

Rumors of the Dark Brotherhood's newest and strongest member reached Riften not long after the Emperor was murdered. She fit the description.

"Ah, welcome to Riften," He mumbled, afraid to meet her eyes.

"What's the matter?" She played, sensing his fear.

"Enjoy your stay . . ." Then he looked at the other girl. Bloody, in rags, dirty, "Her on the other hand . . ." Querida glanced at her sister, then spat, "What?"

"Trash like her doesn't belong in our —" Querida pushed a dagger against his throat, "Watch your tongue, or I will cut it off. That's my sister your speaking to, maggot. I know you know who I am and you know that I can and will get away with disposing of you. So I suggest you watch your back, lest you want a target on your head." She withdrew and ordered, "Open that damn door for us, will you?"

"Yes ma'am."

"What was that about?" Querida asked.

"Shh. Don't ask stupid questions until we're safe. I'll explain everything later." Querida glanced at the guard and followed his eyes. They were set on her horse.

"I wouldn't," She laughed, "Shadowmere will eat you for breakfast if you try anything with him. A girl needs a well-trained horse, agreed?" She stepped inside.

"Welcome to Riften where the guards are petty and the town is run by thieves." Querida looked around. The city was built around a lake with a market place built over houses and businesses below.

"Thieves?" Querida asked, "Like Bandits?" She laughed.

"No, not quite. They are amusing people, really. Ah, look right there," She pointed to a woman harassing someone for money, "That woman is a member of the guild. The guild has run into a dry spot and are running low on supplies, resources, members, clients, and the most important — gold."

She walked passed Sapphire and entered the building first in view.

"This is the inn. Stay here a moment," She went to rent a room. Audalyn looked around and noticed people were trying not to watch her, but her appearance almost called for it.

Querida came back and said, "All right, you need a bath and a change of clothes, my darling."

XXX

XXX

"What did you take from those bandits? Any armor or weapons?"

"Just gold," Audalyn put on a dress she found stored away and felt genuinely good.

"Don't you look adorable, my sister?" Querida laughed, "Do you want me to braid your hair?"

"Stop it, Querida."

"Can't help it. It just gives you that appearances of a normal town girl with normal circumstances."

"Maybe that's what I want." Querida sighed, "You and I never had the chance for normal circumstances. We are meant to be warriors, driving our enemies to their deaths. You can't ignore that."

"Querida, I don't want to fight anymore. I'm free, that's the last thing in the world I want to do." She nodded.

"I guess I understand. I just was hoping you'd come with me, that's all. I mean, what are you going to do? Run a shop? Work for some sleazebag? Farming? Fishing? You'd be good at alchemy."

"I don't know yet," She admitted, "But I — what time is it?" Querida rolled her eyes inward — a habit their mother did when she was thinking.

"Hm . . . Almost four. We should get some rest and we can talk later."

"Oh no, I want to know everything that's been going on."

"Audie, I think it's best that we get our rest before — "

"I'm serious. You threatened that guard. You threatened to kill him, Querida. What's going on?" She sighed.

"I was hoping to get passed all of that, but if you really insist on knowing the horrible truth, then here it is. A while ago, in Windhelm, I met a young boy who told me a story about how his mother died of sickness and how he was sent here, in Riften, to an orphanage. It was run by a crow of a woman, who beat and worked the children to the bones. He mistook me for an assassin and asked me to carry out her death.

"At first, I wasn't going to do it, but I decided to check it out and hopefully talk to this woman. When I walked in, she was scolded them, telling them that she would double their work and beat any of them for intolerance. It was something along those lines. Then, I spoke with her.

"She was really awful, so I did the only rational thing. I killed her, and the children watched — and rejoiced. I did them a favor."

"Querida — "

"Soon after, I was recruited by a woman named Astrid, and I became an official assassin. There, you wanted to know." Audalyn was taken aback.

"Why?"

"The pay's good and it puts my skills to proper use."

"What skills, Querida? Murdering people for money?"

"Precisely. I have a knack for this line of work, and maybe so do you."

"You wanted to recruit me to become some killer? No thanks, Querida, you can handle that by yourself. I don't want anything to do with that." Querida smiled.

"I know how you must think of me. Perhaps you're right, but there's no turning back for me. This is for life now, and I can't turn my back on the others. Not after everything I've done." She shook her head, "I still don't understand why." Querida sat down in a chair and folded her legs.

"It presented me an opportunity I couldn't pass up. The Emperor of Skyrim is dead, leaving the Imperials flustered and weakened. Ulfric Stormcloak is going to win this war now, and it's only a matter of time before he attacks Whiterun to advance on Solitude. Whiterun is the means to the end, located right dab in the center of Skyrim."

"You did this for the war?"

"They call me the Stormcloak Assassin now, and that makes Ulfric all that more powerful. He's going to win and become the High King Skyrim deserves. With the Assassins backing him up, there isn't anyone foolish enough to stand up against us. Audie, don't think of me as a monster. This world needs change. Everything is centered around death in this era, and maybe that will change in the future, but now, Skyrim is clouded in death and fear."

"Fine, whatever, just don't drag me in. I think I'm ready to go to bed." Querida nodded, "Of course."

XXX

XXX

In the morning, Querida told Audalyn she had something she needed to take care of. That left her alone in Riften. She assured Audalyn that the thieves only had enough nerve to come out of hiding during the night and she would be fine.

"Here you go," She said, handing her a purse full of money and a bag full of merchandise.

"Use the armor, sell it for profit, I really don't care. Shop and spend whatever you want for whatever you need. I have to go, so please be careful. If you require assistance, go seek Maven Black-Briar and tell her that I am your sister. If she doesn't believe you, show her this," She handed a crafted dagger that glowed red. The handle was oddly shaped and a blackish gray.

"It's called the Blade of Woe, and it's one of my more common weapons. Use it if you need it. Don't worry, if you go to jail for murder, I'll clear your name."

"But —"

"Kay, I'll see you later Audie."

She wandered around the market and examined different stalls. Querida really was pushing proper armor and weapons, she noticed, and decided maybe she wasn't all that wrong after all.

XXX

XXX

"What did Frey say?" Querida asked Brynjolf unpleasantly.

"He says we can handle our own and we don't need any outside help." She nodded, "I see. Well, in that case I'll pass the news to Maven and see what she thinks of his claim. I hope the best for you, Bryn." She walked out the cistern back into the rathole.

Brynjolf disappeared into the cistern and made his way to the market by a secret means.

Audalyn wandered, absently staring at wares, unsure what she should buy and what she didn't actually need.

The sounds of a busy market was new to her, so she already felt out of place. Then she noticed a redhaired man in fine clothes approaching an unmanned stable and started spewing a spiel about miracle potions.

She shook her head and ignored it, a gut feeling telling her that this man was full of bullshit.

She went to a forge, and browsed the daggers and swords. She figured that would be easiest for her, but she hesitated on actually purchasing anything without Querida's assistance.

"Are you here to buy or window shop?" A man asked, sounding more grisly than necessary.

"I have no idea. My sister says I need better equipment, but I have no idea what I'm looking for."

"Well, what suits you?" She eyed the daggers and a thin sword.

"Obviously, a woman of your size would go for a smaller blade — quick and accurate. Perhaps you should start there." He suggested, noticing her eye movements. She nodded.

"How much?"

As Querida made her way back to the market, she thought it would be best to avoid killing her marked for now. Just until she could get Audie on her side.

She saw Audalyn browsing wares and snuck up on her.

"Clueless, aren't you?" Querida asked once she was directly behind her. She jumped and Querida laughed, "You need to be more alert, Audie. I could have pick-pocketed you for all your worth."

"Stop it."

"Sorry. Touchy." She giggled, "Anyway, what are you looking at anyway?" She shook her head.

"I don't even know."

"Well, that dress isn't gonna protect you from anything. I suggest armor, maybe? And that blade can save you, but what happens if you're disarmed?"

"You want me to get better equipment, I know," she glanced back at the forge and noticed the man went back to weapon smithing.

"Of course I do. You want to end up dead on the side of a street after being robbed? I don't think so." She lectured, then noticed Brynjolf, "How long's he been there?" She turned to see him trying to sell phony potions.

"A few minutes. Why?"

"Son of a bitch."

"What?"

"Nothing. He's a friend of mine who always makes it back here before I do. How the hell does he do it? No, nevermind, it's not important. Get shopping done and we'll leave Riften."

"We're leaving already?" She asked.

"Yeah? Why not?" Querida asked, not sure where that response came from.

"Where do you live? How long are we traveling for?" Her sister sighed, then said, "Audie, I'm always traveling. What were you expecting, a stay in some random little city and a joyous life for me? If you want to stay, be my guest." Audie looked around. She wasn't sure that she liked this place, and at the same time she didn't want to leave. She was safe, why would Querida try and take that away from her?

"But - " Querida sighed.

"One more day, Audie. That's it. I have life to attend to, which oddly enough means taking such away from another." Audalyn glared at her sister, "Fine. I'm sorry for being so cynical. What do you want from me, though? A sudden change of heart and personality? I'm giving us another day, aren't you happy yet?" Querida looked at the forged weapons and armor.

"Light or Heavy?" She asked out loud, "Wait, what am I asking? Light, of course. I'd love to see you hike around in heavy armor."

"I'd like to try," Audalyn replied.

"Trust me, no you don't. It's clunky and weighs you down," She picked up some elven armor, but it was an incomplete set, "Can you make elven gear?" She asked the forger.

"Every once in a while, yes. When I have moonstone around. Lately, though, I haven't had much luck with traders." Querida nodded, "I can probably get the materials for you, then you can make a full set for my sister here."

"That sounds reasonable." He nodded. She smiled at him, "Okay, it's a done deal. I'll speak with you later. Hey Audie, do me a favor. Make friends at the Bee and Barb while I'm gone. Don't worry, I'm just going to send a message to some of my subordinates. We'll get you some nice armor and you won't have to worry about bandits."

"How are you going to send a message?"

"There's a nice little thing called a," she whispered in Audie's ear, "dead-drop." she smiled again, then nodded to the man at the forge, "Don't look so glum. Chances are we'll be in Riften longer since we need the supplies. I imagine we are going to be stuck here for a good week, so cheer up! You got your wish, we are now stuck in this town." she dashed out of the market without another word, leaving Audalyn alone again.

She walked away from the forge and made no eye contact with the red-haired dealer. Instead, she passed a stall with a woman in full armor standing behind a stall with a frustrated look on her face.

"Are you going to buy something or just stand there all day?" She hissed.

"Wow," Audalyn replied, "Do you always greet customers like that?"

"Look here," She started to say, "I'm not here to make friends. I just want to make enough gold to get out of Skyrim."

"Mannerisms get you customers, and customers get you gold," Audalyn said flatly.

"Whatever. I don't care enough. So, are you going to buy something? Or are you here for training? If not, get lost." Audie shook her head, then left.

She'd sooner buy equipment at the forge than at her stall.

Audalyn made her way back to the Bee and Barb when suddenly she was stopped by the bogus 'miracle potion' redhaired man, "Never done an honest day's work in your life for all that coin you're carrying, eh lass?"

"I'm sorry? What?" she asked instantly.

"I'm saying you've got the coin, but you didn't earn a septim of it honestly. I can tell."

Technically speaking, he was correct. Most of it she stole from the dead bandits, and the other majority of it she got from Querida. And, as far as Audalyn could tell, Querida got her gold from killing her marks.

"My wealth is none of your business." She stated defensively.

"Oh, but that's where you're wrong, lass. Wealth is my business. Maybe you'd like a taste?" He offered, trying to get her to take the bait.

"What did you have in mind?" She asked cautiously.

"I've got a bit of an errand to perform, but I need an extra pair of hands. And in my line of work, extra hands are well-paid." He replied, still baiting her.

"What do I have to do?"

"Simple. I'm going to cause a distraction and you're going to steal Madesi's silver ring from a strongbox under his stand. Once you have it, I want you to place it in Brand-Shei's pocket without him noticing." the plan puzzled her.

"Why plant the ring on Brand-Shei?"

"There's someone that wants to see him put out of business permanently. That's all you need to know. Now, you tell me when you're ready and we'll get started." She looked around the market.

"Who's who?" She asked quietly. She saw the sign above the stalls and figured out who was Madesi from there. Finding Brand-Shei, Audalyn now had an angle to go off from.

"I'm ready. Let's get started." She said, finding the ordeal to be a little fun. Break in, steal, and plant while not being noticed by the guards sounded like a way to test everything her life put her through.

_Great, I'm starting to think like Querida_. She shook her head. _Oh well, I already agreed to it. Time to get started._


End file.
